Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 82

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 82.
The Island of the Survivors (24)
Daphnen was captivated less by the wonder of floating through empty air than by the enchantment of the song itself. Within it dwelt all that was sacred, precious, and exalted.
As he reached the cliff where the spring lay, his feet touched solid ground.
Isolet had not yet ceased her song. Her Sacred Chant had brought him back to life. Of that, there could be no doubt. In that moment, even the most skeptical soul would have believed.
The song transformed into a whisper.
Still trembling with wonder, Daphnen stepped forward and extended his hand. He placed two fingers against Isolet’s throat—an act he would never have dared attempt under ordinary circumstances.
“Please, continue singing just a little longer.”
Warmth and a delicate tremor transmitted through his fingertips. A shiver coursed through his entire body. As her power seemed to flow into him, a tide of overwhelming emotion surged forth, impossible to contain.
“….”
Isolet sang for perhaps two more verses before gradually coming to a stop. Then she gazed at the boy with transparent eyes tinged in rosy hues.
Daphnen spoke haltingly, yet with unmistakable clarity.
“You… are beautiful…. Truly….”
He had meant to say that her voice was beautiful. But the word “voice” slipped away between his lips, and what emerged instead was only that.
Isolet’s eyes widened slightly, her lips pressed together, and she took a step back.
Flutter….
White birds descended and encircled them. Isolet sat by the spring and submerged both hands in the water. The birds gathered nearby, folded their wings, and pecked at the surface.
Daphnen gazed down at the vast gorge stretching far below the cliff and the ribbon of river flowing through it, wondering whether the transparent stones he had climbed would cast shadows.

A single song from Isolet proved far more effective than tens of days spent struggling through forced practice of melodies that would not come.
Though he had arrived too early and disturbed Isolet while she was alone, she harbored no resentment. That day atop the cliff, the two of them sang softly in turn, and Isolet nodded her approval several times.
She spoke of the birds as well. These white birds were the messengers of the Island and sometimes traveled even to distant continents. They understood human speech as a matter of course, could express their own intentions, and could even offer counsel.
The ancestors of these wise creatures were but a handful of birds that had come from a distant homeland kingdom. The precise measure of their intelligence was difficult to assert with certainty.
Of course, these birds belonged not to Isolet alone. Yet the birds responded with particular sensitivity to the voice of Isolet, the sole remaining inheritor of the Sacred Chant Tradition on the Island.
These days, the Island valued only physical strength, and no one wished to learn such things as song.
The more she experienced life, the more Isolet—despite possessing a nature unsuited to seclusion—had come to live in self-imposed isolation and made no particular effort to seek disciples.
Yet for the Priesthood of the Island, it would not do for such an important tradition to disappear without an heir. Thus they took deep interest in the lessons between the two.
In truth, the very fact that Isolet had resolved to teach someone was itself remarkable.
That Isolet, barely seventeen years old, had earned the epithet “Princess” was no accident. Though the reason remained unclear to him, even the eldest and wisest among the Island did not presume to treat Isolet carelessly.
Daphnen wondered whether Isolet’s choice to live alone, far from the village, might stem from discomfort with such treatment.
‘Father discovered these invisible stairs and revealed them only to me. So you must keep this secret as well.’
Isolet placed a bird upon her lap and stroked it as she continued speaking. Her white hair brushed gently against the bird’s round head.
‘Until now, only these birds and I have known of this place.’
‘Why did you reveal such a thing to me?’
‘The birds told me to.’
Isolet said she had never commanded the birds to guide Daphnen to this place. Then why had they aided him?
‘This bird is Yozrel. Among the white birds, she is called the Princess.’
‘Like you, then?’
He realized at once that he had never before mentioned that epithet in Isolet’s presence. Isolet spoke without changing her expression.
‘Yes. But this bird is a true Princess. Among the ancestor birds that came from the old homeland, there was a King, and this bird is descended from that ancestor.’
‘Didn’t you say only a few of these birds made it to The Island? Then how could there be only one heir?’
‘It’s because these birds truly… perform a ceremony to pass down the throne.’
Around Yozrel’s neck hung a single crimson ruby on a string, its gleam identical to the birds’ eyes….
“Ah.”
Daphnen suddenly stirred from his reverie and looked toward the person who had called him. There was only one person in the house who would address him.
“What are you brooding over?”
“Isolet….”
He stopped abruptly mid-sentence. He had made a promise, after all. Even to Nauplion, he could not speak of the stairs.
“What about Isolet?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
Nauplion sat on the bed, idly gnawing at an apple. He took a bite, then spoke in a bitter tone.
“So now you’re keeping secrets from me too. Ah, I think I finally understand how a father feels when his son enters adolescence and shuts him out. Damn it, this is absurd. I’ve never even been married, so why am I having such pathetic thoughts? This is all your fault, you wretched boy.”

Ron was the capital of Trabaches.
Of Trabaches’s fifteen Electors, only two were permitted to reside within the capital itself. One was the Khan Commander, and the other was the Council President.
The status of Trabaches originated from the title ‘Council Members.’ These hereditary positions numbered around one hundred and fifty, fluctuating up and down.
The decline typically resulted from conflicts that destroyed entire families, making it relatively frequent. However, an increase required the endorsement of thirty existing Council Members, which was impossible without substantial bribes exchanging hands.
For this reason, as the nation’s fortunes waned, the number of Council Members continued to dwindle. Like starving beasts beginning to devour one another, conflict ignited across all of Trabaches.
The Council Members held the right to elect Electors within their respective territories. Countless irregularities infiltrated this process as well.
While the Elector position was not hereditary, it was a lifetime appointment. When an existing Elector died and a brief power vacuum emerged, rival Council Members would deploy every conceivable slander and stratagem to seize the position.
Yet despite all this, the deceased Elector’s child most often became the new Elector. After all, the Elector position was the most effective means of accumulating wealth and power.
The Electors, in turn, held the authority to select the Khan Commander—a position that was likewise a lifetime appointment and not hereditary. From among themselves.
Though not technically hereditary, powerful Electors shamelessly orchestrated succession so that their children would assume the Elector throne after their deaths.
As a result of repeatedly passing down the Elector position, a family naturally came to be called the Elector Khan—much like a dynasty.
Ivan Elector Khan, the head of that house, had recently secured the Khan Commander position itself with the unprecedented support of eleven of the fifteen Electors.
Thus, for the first time in centuries, the name ‘Elector’ fell away from the family name in an unexpected turn of events.
“The Fourth Wing, Yurichi Fredan, has returned.”
The man kneeling with his head bowed was a handsome youth in his mid-twenties. Khan Commander, seated in the high chair of the audience chamber, rose laboriously from his corpulent frame and scratched his chin slightly.
“All is well in your homeland?”
“Of course. Thanks to your concern.”
Yurichi answered respectfully, though a playful smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.
At Khan Commander’s gesture, Yurichi rose and moved to the left. A woman in a black dress already stood there. She smiled and spoke to him.
“How is the little one growing?”
“Thanks to your care, sister.”
The woman smiled, her pale cheeks partially concealed by a fan. She was a considerable beauty, appearing to be around thirty.
When the small talk ceased, Khan Commander began speaking with a slight cough.
“It has been a long time since all four of my wings gathered together.”
Opposite where Yurichi and the woman in the black dress stood, two men were positioned. As Khan Commander finished speaking, they bowed in unison.
A satisfied smile appeared at Khan Commander’s lips.
“Tell me—do you have any notion why I have summoned all of you after so long?”
The man standing in front on the right opened his mouth. He appeared to be in his late thirties to early forties, with eyes that held a melancholic depth.
“So it’s Winterbottom Kit after all.”
Those who bore the epithet Four Wings had been trusted aides to Khan Commander since his days as Elector.
They were not aides in the political sense. They were assassins who received only Khan Commander’s covert orders and never appeared in any official capacity.
To maintain power in Trabaches, where factional strife ran rampant, the backing of such a clandestine organization was absolutely essential. Sometimes, how one deployed these assassins could shift the entire balance of power.
The woman voiced her complaint.
“I had a feeling it would be something like this. Chasing after a child would be tedious and pathetic. Do you really have to concern yourself with such matters, our Commander?”
Three of the Four Wings, excluding Yurichi, had served Khan Commander for a long time. When Khan Commander was vying to be chosen as successor among his Father’s six sons, resorting to every slander and assassination attempt, their presence had been a vital force.
Because their relationship spanned so many years, they spoke without much restraint.
Khan Commander burst into hearty laughter.
“Yes, I must have you regardless of circumstances, Marinov. The reason I summoned you is that word reached me the boy has fled to Lemme. Since you all possess multiple identities, you’re perfectly suited to tracking someone who’s escaped abroad. Yurichi, obtaining Lemme citizenship shouldn’t be difficult for you, would it?”
“Aren’t I originally from Narnissa, a port city in Lemme?”
He meant that fabrication would be no problem if he felt inclined. Everyone laughed at Yurichi’s audacious confidence.
Khan Commander, who maintained strict authority before others, displayed a candid demeanor before them. In fact, he needed to.
“Very well then. You and Ryusno Den go for now. You may act together or separately—in any case, once you locate traces of the boy in Lemme, send word back.”
“Send word, you say?”
When Yurichi repeated the phrase with displeasure, Khan Commander continued.
“If the boy is still alone and possesses the treasure, it would be fine for you to seize it and claim the merit. But it’s inconceivable that a child could have survived this long without a guardian. So don’t act rashly—once you obtain accurate information, request reinforcements immediately.”
Sending Ryusno Den and Yurichi represented a choice of precision and speed. The other two were stronger in direct combat by comparison.
Yurichi responded.
“True enough. If that’s the case, the item might have already changed hands to someone else. I understand.”
“This time, you can’t let the item slip away with you.”
Marinov issued her warning in a joking tone. Yurichi had always harbored an unusual attachment to antiques, and had a habit of handling assignments flawlessly before subtly pocketing one or two items for himself.
Yurichi showed a flustered expression but quickly deflected with banter.
“Sister, really. When have I ever pocketed small change? Would I ever lay hands on something this important? Don’t you know how gravely the Commander regards this matter?”
Ryusno Den, the First Wing with the melancholic countenance, spoke.
“Understood. Since you’ve given us a mission after so long, I’ll gather information as best I can.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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